Reality
by Lindy Rose
Summary: Pessimistic, cynical, educated, anti social, and with a dangerous choice of careers Gaara's outlook on life is a bleak one. Then, everything changes when he meets the girl of his dreams...but the problem is, is she even real? Everyday life gets turned upside down when love makes Gaara question what reality really is.


**Hello GaaSaku fans! **

**This is my new story, my new child if you will. It is a also a late present to Gaara as it was his birthday yesterday! I will be utilizing the prompts from GaaSaku month(though not exactly following the timeline because it's been a while since I regularly wrote and my brain needs to get back in shape). **

**This chapters Prompt is: Holiday**

**Thanks for reading and I can't wait to get your guys thoughts on this!**

**Shout out and great big THANK YOU to my Editor FallenCrimsonStar! She's also a fabulous GaaSaku writer and I recommend checking out her work. **

**xox**  
**Rose**

It had been a long night. The bottle was heavy in Gaara's hand as he trudged down Main Street, too drunk to drive and too broke for a taxi. The pale man scoffed at himself and took another swig. He should have taken up his cousin Sasori's offer for work. It might be gang work but gang work was still work and it paid real well. Maybe he would give him a call tomorrow, make some rent money to keep his sister off his case.

He turned the corner onto Oak St. and immediately tensed to flee as blue and red flashes invaded his vision. Just down the road, at the intersection of Hollyhock Lane and Oak, was a cluster-fuck of cop cars, an ambulance, and a fire truck. He shook himself and tamped down his instinctual fear of those ongoing flashes. They weren't after him, he assured himself, and at least he had been smart enough to walk instead of drive or he could have easily been the one welcoming the New Year from a hospital bed.

Gaara spat contemptuously on the sidewalk and continued on, tripping slightly over a singed white heel that looked as if it had been flung from the wreckage. The morbid image, and in fact the whole idea of a New Year, only soured Gaara's mood even more. The New Year, he thought to himself as he carried on, and the champagne and resolutions that came with it, seemed so futile. Sure, in the last year, a couple states had legalized gay marriage and pot, but in the grand scheme of things, the world was just getting progressively shittier. Global warming had caused fires all across the Rockies this summer and now many of the trails he had planned on vacationing to hike were nothing but charred wasteland. And still the oil corporations bought the politicians and kept everyone brainwashed; the country was a military imperial power that dropped war drones and bombs on civilians in other nations and the American's whose taxes paid for it didn't give a shit. A new school shooting had just happened and yet little rednecks just cried boohoo about their rights to have their guns. Resolutions were pointless. Most fat people would stay fat, he swigged again, and most alcoholics would pick up the bottle when the bottle called.

He arrived at the barred front door of his apartment building, his fingers numb, and stiff from cold and clumsy from liquor and exhaustion as he fumbled for his keys. The only good thing about this New Year's Eve, Gaara thought to himself as he finally unlocked the gate and kicked the door open, was that it was almost over.

Five storeys later, the lanky young man stumbled drunkenly around his kitchen, pouring the filthy water filling his bong into the sink and letting clear, clean water fill the still grimy base. He would smoke himself to sleep, he had decided. He wanted to spend his first moments of 2013 in what had become his favorite state-when his insomniac brain was baked into exhausted submission.

Down a lightless hallway and into a cave like space, Gaara entered a small room dominated by a large bed, a chest of drawers, and a night stand squashed against the wall. Sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed he reached over and pulled out a large baggy of weed from the side table drawer. Deidara had given him a new strain for him to test out, judging by the crystals Gaara had seen he had hopes that it was a good one.

Bowl loaded, Gaara situated himself in the bed and lit up, pulling hard and then breathing deep as he took out the bowl, his long fingers experienced and sure, and inhaled. Coughing he exhaled and hit it again, then a third time, until his limbs started to drag and he carefully pushed the bong onto the night stand before everything faded into blackness…

The last thing Gaara remembered was sinking into his bed, consciousness blurring away. He thought he had finally passed out but as he breathed in the cold, sharp air and examined his surroundings, he felt more as if he were waking from a dream than entering one.

Scarred fists tensed and eyes wary, Gaara analyzed his environment quickly. In his life he had learned that unfamiliar surroundings meant danger and his skills of observation was his first line of defense. But what Gaara saw only made him more wary and uncertain.

It was a perfectly normal city street and yet, it was not. The colors were more vivid; his crystalizing breaths twinkled in the street lights, the smells sweeter, more acrid, and so tangy he could almost taste them. The sensation of the icy air on his skin felt nearly solid, like he could reach out and grasp the breeze in his hands. And the silence, the unnatural silence that a city should never experience simply because of the ever present members of the hive.

But there was no one here.

The lamps were all on, after Christmas sale posters pasted everywhere; neon signs hung invitingly in windows and Gaara couldn't tell if he was actually hearing the electrical hum or if it was only his imagination, as if in the overwhelming lack of sound everything had forgotten how to make noise of their own. The store front beside him was lit up and, Gaara found as he walked forward to test the door, unlocked.

Poking his head in Gaara looked around and ascertained, not to his surprise, that the room was devoid of other human beings. Pulling back out again he ran his fingers through his rumpled coppery hair in confusion; where was he?

_Pad pad, pad pad, pad pad…_

Gaara whirled around towards the feathery sound of footsteps, the sound of life. He saw nothing at first but then…out of the shadows of a small alley way on the opposite side of the street emerged a ghostly white figure.

Her long ivory dress fluttered around her bare feet as she turned onto the street and began to trot away from him. Pastel pink hair skimmed her bare shoulders, stark against the milkiness of her skin, the simple beauty taking the young man's breathe away.

Stunned by the ethereal beauty of the creature that had materialized in this deadened space it took Gaara a moment to realize that as he stood there she continued to get further and further away from him. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he ran after her. "Hey wait!" He called. "Hey you, hold on a minute!"

The figure's steps faltered and she turned to look back over her shoulder at him. "Hello?" She responded softly, her bell like voice hesitant and uncertain. "Who are you?"

Gaara stopped a few feet away from the girl and felt his heart thud painfully as his eyes met hers. Wide and dewy, they were the color of spring grass just as the light of the sun first touches the earth. They pulled at something deep within him as if asking him to give something he had never before known existed. He tried to answer but his voice caught in his throat. "I-ahem, I'm Gaara." He managed to say firmly then asked. "Who are you? Where are we?"

Her gaze examined him for a breath longer before she turned fully towards him, her hands cupping her elbows tightly against her slender body and her posture radiating anxiety. "I don't know…I don't know. I'm lost, I'm trying to find something, or maybe someone…I'm trying to get home but I-" she stopped and sniffled, "I don't know where home is."

Gaara froze in a moment of primal fear. This woman was displaying his sister's stereotypical signs of a woman on the edge of tears; he was not equipped to handle tears. Finally, he said gruffly, "Well, do you at least know your name?"

"Of course I know my name it's…it's…" The pink haired woman suddenly covered her eyes with her palms, sagged against dirty concrete of the building beside her, and went silent. "I can't remember my name." She said eventually, voice spilling over with panic. "I can't remember my name."

Tears began to leak past her hands and trailed down her face. Gaara stared helplessly for a second before frantically searching all his pockets for the most basic tool in all woman dealings-a tissue. Just as he remembered that he never carried tissues because he never dealt with crying strangers, his hands found something foreign in his left jeans pocket. Pulling it out he found, to his bemusement, that somehow a handkerchief with the letters G. S. elegantly stitched into the corner, had appeared out of nowhere.

He held out the handkerchief. "Here."

"Huh?" She pulled her hands away from her eyes and stared at the cloth dazedly. Gaara felt himself flush and waved the thing at her, willing her to take it from him and deal with those streaks of misery on her face.

"Oh." She blushed as well and took the fabric square from his hand. Gaara shoved his fists into his jacket pockets and turned away to allow the girl space to collect herself. As she did, a silent war erupted within Gaara. Though his face showed no sign, internally the young man was furiously berating himself. Since when was he so nice to strangers or, Kami help him, since when did he comfort weepy women who were not his sister and would therefore not make his life a nightmare if he didn't?

Suddenly, a soft nudging against his sleeve startled Gaara out of his mental war. "Thank you." She murmured, holding the damp cloth towards his pocket. The ginger grunted in response and pushed the handkerchief back towards her. "Keep it," he said. "I don't know how I had it in the first place."

"Alright." She retracted her hand and slipped the soggy thing out of sight. The two stood together in awkward silence, not meeting one another's gaze, neither knowing what to say, but neither wanting to set off alone. Finally-

"Oh hell, just follow me and let's find a way out of this nightmare."

Nervous at what her response would be Gaara chanced a casual glance back at the woman and saw her face alight with a beaming smile. "I'd like that." She said, clasping her hands and tilting her head sweetly.

The young red head felt the corners of his mouth begin to smile a little back but then shook himself out of it. Gaara Sabaku didn't smile. People would think he was going soft.

With a curt nod to the girl in white Gaara began to stomp down the sidewalk, his boots beating loudly against the ground, the sound almost overpowering the whisper of the padding feet behind him. The young man used his speed to give himself time to reflect and to attempt to sort his thoughts. Where was he? Who was the girl with him? Was any of this real or was he dreaming? If so, it was the weirdest dream that he'd ever had.

In a moment of clarity, one of the first he'd had since he'd found himself in this place, Gaara realized that the girl following him might not even exist. He groaned inwardly at the slough of psychological bullshit this could mean for him. Or, maybe he just really needed to get laid. That was a comforting thought. Maybe he was just projecting his desperate need to get laid into his dreams. But then, he wondered, why had his dream girl been crying and not giving him a blowjob?

"Wait, Gaara."

The wiry limbed man stopped. "What?"

Dream girl turned towards a tunnel like alley way and pointed. "We need to go that way."

Gaara quirked a brow at her, "I thought you were lost."

Her hand reached up to pull anxiously at her rosy tresses. "I am but…there's something down there. I can feel it. And if it's different than this, I want to find it. I don't like it here." She gestured around at the empty stores, sidewalks, and street. "Can whatever's down there really be creepier than this?"

Gaara certainly agreed with that, anything different would be a welcome change. And, he added internally, the girl had emerged from another dark alley way, maybe they could lead to something good.

He shrugged and turned decisively into the narrow dark space. A few steps in and suddenly he felt small hands grasping the back bottom of his jacket-a secret smirk quirked at his lips. "Scared?" He teased.

"…Yes," came the small, reluctant reply.

The young man felt his chest constrict in alarm. Most people would never admit weakness to him. His sister said it was something about his cold stare that made him difficult to confess vulnerability to. He had never expected the girl to respond affirmatively, he had expected bravado, joking, not a small, wobbly voiced answer that clearly was searching for reassurance.

And what reassurance could he offer? They were traveling down a dark tunnel inside of what Gaara guessed was a dream. He didn't know when he would wake up or who this girl was. He didn't even know if she was even real.

But her fear, that felt real. He could feel her, whoever and whatever she was, really clutching the edge of his jacket in trembling terror.

"What are you afraid of?"

He wanted to know. Was she also doubting her existence? Or was she questioning his?

"…I'm…scared that you'll disappear, that I'll be alone in the dark again. I don't even know who I am, if you leave how am I supposed to survive here when nothing feels solid and I don't even have myself to hang on to? I don't even have a name...you're the closest thing to real I've seen here. If you go I'm afraid I'll disappear too…"

Gaara kept walking in stony silence. What else was he supposed to do now that she had laid out her insides for him to see? He could take her out of the dark that was the first solution. He couldn't promise that he would stay; he was sure in fact that he would be waking up anytime. He couldn't give her name back, the girl in white didn't seem like a name, pinky, green eyed girl, dream chick…

"Look Gaara look!" The young woman tugged on the edge of his coat and cried out in his ear. "Do you see? There up ahead!"

Rubbing his ringing ear Gaara looked and looked but saw nothing but more blackness. "What are you talking about?"

"It's right there!" She exclaimed, pushing past him she began to run down the tunnel alone. "We did it Gaara! We made it out!"

She was quickly disappearing from sight. Cursing, Gaara sprinted after her. "Wait up you idiot! Don't go too far!"

Then, suddenly, Gaara found himself blinded by sunlight. As he blinked the brightly colored spots out of his eyes Gaara relished in the sensation of the life giving warmth on his skin. The heady spice of pine trees filled his nostrils and the natural murmur of rustling leaves and burbling water gently released the tension of the painful silence they had just traveled through. This space was natural and alive and, Gaara opened his eyes, too beautiful to be real.

They were in a forest. Pine trees rose majestically as far as Gaara's blue eyes could see and a silver brook wound whimsically through them. Not so far away along the riverbank, in middle of a golden puddle of sunlight, was a straw thatched cottage surrounded by wildflowers. Sakura stood in front of the house, attempting to turn the handle of the front door.

Gaara shook his head and headed after the impulsive girl. Hopping over the creek and jogging through the trees, he allowed himself a moment to savor the softness of the earth under his boots. He felt a sense of relaxation, the kind he only ever felt when in nature, begin to take hold. Muscles loosening, breaths deepening, he inhaled the peace of the forest-

Only to have the moment ruined by the sharp rap of dream girl's fist on the door. "Hello?" She called as she hammered furiously. "Is anyone here? Can anyone let me in?"

Arriving at the woman's side the exasperated man caught her fist as it went to land another knock. "Enough." He growled. "Anything within a mile radius has heard you already. No one is home."

She looked up at him with pleading eyes, lower lip puckered in a pout. "But I want to see inside."

With a dead pan face, Gaara stared at the girl, then at the door. Then, in one swift, experienced motion, he kicked it in with a loud bang, the girl letting out a little yelp of surprise.

"Ladies first," he said, giving her a little push into the dim building. She complied, walking boldly in and immediately opening every window shutter.

"Where did you learn to kick in doors like that?" She asked as she went about letting light and air into the stuffy room. "You looked like you've done it before."

Gaara looked around the room for something to sit on; the only furniture being a bed and a small chest Gaara settled himself on the edge of the bed. "Comes with my occupation."

Every portal to the outside opened the girl happily plopped down beside him, laying herself across all the available space in a very cat like manner, and stretching vigorously. The man beside her watched her childlike behavior in amusement until she rolled back onto her side, her face tilted towards him. "What's your occupation Gaara?"

His brow furrowed at the question, it wasn't one he answered very often. But, he thought to himself, it couldn't hurt to tell her. It was only a dream after all.

"I do some underground fighting, some body guarding, and I have some cousins who…do a little bit of everything and when they find a job they think I might be interested in they give me a call." His was an interesting and bloody resume, one of the many reasons why it was better to keep to his business to himself.

"Wow…" The girl murmured and Gaara glanced over to see her staring at him with an enthralled smile. "I bet you're an amazing fighter! I would love to see you fight someday, I bet you would kick ass!"

Gaara startled himself by laughing at her. Not just at her enthusiasm for his career, the one that made most dates back away slowly before kicking off their heels and running, but at just at her. He laughed in wonder that someone could be so expressive all the time, could be so emotional, genuine, and vibrant. It was like the other people he had met in his life had only been lakes and she was the sea.

And she was swallowing him up.

A horrified gasp interrupted his merriment and when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by a terror widened green gaze and hands that were clinging desperately to him. "Gaara!" She cried. "Gaara you're disappearing!"

Gaara looked down at his hands and saw that they had begun to go transparent. The sunlight that filled the room was filtering through them, through the rest of his body and the pattern of the quilt below him was quickly becoming clearer. The girl kneeling beside him was sobbing as she watched him in desperation. "Gaara, don't leave me." She begged, "Please don't leave me alone."

Gaara tried to focus his mind on becoming more solid but by now, he couldn't even see his feet. His mind whirled furiously, searching for a solution, anything he could give her anything at all. His knees were disappearing now; he couldn't stay but if there was some way, any way he could find his dream girl again, anything that could help, even if it was just a name…

"Yume!" He yelled, though his voice sounded more like an echo now. "I'm giving you a name. Your name is Yume." He clasped her small shaking hand in his. "And I'll be back to find you again. I promise."

Yume took a few deep shaky breathes and tried to grasp his hand back, only to have her fingers go right through his flesh. A small panicked squeak escaped her but she kept it together, meeting Gaara's gaze she nodded her head. "Okay Gaara. I believe in you."

The last thing Gaara saw was Yume's small, brave smile as everything went blurry and then black.

Discordant chimes rang in his ears and Gaara shot upwards, panting like a drowning man. He looked around himself and flopped back down on his pillows. He was back in his bed. His room was dim and cavernous like always, and over the shrill ringing of his phone, he could hear the cars and people on the streets below.

Completely overwhelmed and very hung over Gaara lay limply on his bed, ignoring the call that had surely woken him from his bizarre and fantastic dream.

_Yume…_

In the light of the real world, the dream wasn't fading as most dreams seem to. Rather, as his cerulean blue eyes gazed around the room, it was if the real world was a dream and that had been reality. Everything in that forest had been so…vivid, but nothing more so than Yume.

She was vivacious, colors and light shone brighter in her presence. She was alive, loud, and expressive. She was beautiful, courageous, and waiting for him. She was….very likely completely imaginary.

He punched the pillow beside him. "Fuck. Fuck fuck, fuck."

The phone started ringing for a third time and Gaara took a break from beating his bedding to cuss out whoever was responsible for waking him from one of the best dreams of his life. He pressed talk without bothering to check the ID and growled. "Who the fuck is this and what the fuck do you want."

_"Happy New Year to you as well cousin."_

Gaara sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. "Sorry Sasori. You just…caught me at a bad time. What did you call about?"

_"I have a job for you. We have a last minute need for increased security for one of our high profile clients. The assignment is only for the day but if it goes well the client is always in need of security. Are you interested?"_

An image of Temari in one of her rages, which would surely happen if he turned down such a well-paying job, flashed through the red heads mind. Gaara winced at the thought and then pulled the blankets off of his legs. Maybe he needed to get out anyway, shake off the feeling of that dream.

"Alright Sasori I'm in."

_"I'll be there to pick you up in thirty minutes. Wear a suit."_

"Since when do you assign uniforms?"

_"I don't. But the client does."_

"Sounds like a fun job."

_"Only the funnest for you."_

The call ended with a definite click and Gaara pulled himself out of bed. He was almost looking forward to the assignment. He was in need of something intense and requiring concentration. The image of Yume's face tried to resurface and Gaara pushed the thought away. This was reality, she was a dream, and he would never see her again.

The world would keep spinning, and his life wouldn't change. He would go to his tournaments, guard some rich ass wipes, kill targets, go on dates that were doomed from the first five minutes and once a week have a burnt family dinner. Happy New Year to him.

**So? What did you all think!**

**I chose the name Yume because it means dream or, sometimes, hope.**

**If anyone has any they'd like to share let me know of any headcannons I can fulfill. The dream plotline is pretty flexible as of yet.**

**R&R if you do please!**


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